Here, the more common stir-fry noodles have been used, but it delivers a good belt of spicy, if overly sweet flavour.To drink, there are cocktails, fresh fruit smoothies, juices, beers, “softies” and a small but lovely list of a dozen wines that should win Junior Wine List of The Year Award. Of course it’s too sweet, too rich, and too everything else, but the quality of the Wiltshire-based Hill Station ice-cream saves it from being crass and me from being embarrassed.Other good bits: the crate of bottles and relishes, the non-smoking, the range of teas, and the decent coffee. Channelled into Happy, Cheerful, Lovely, Fab, Gorgeous, Pink and Fizz, every wine is worth drinking, from a fresh and grassy New Zealand Spy Valley sauvignon blanc (£19.95) to a very berry American De Loach pinot noir (£15.95).A tall rocky-road ice-cream sundae (£4.50) of chocolate and vanilla ice cream, chocolate brownie, marshmallows and chocolate sauce, sends me into my second childhood, thankfully without the accompanying orange balloon. Free-range scrambled eggs and smoked salmon (£7.50) is a madly generous serving, with enough silky, lightly smoked salmon to feed a small family, great sourdough toast, and a soft, curd-like, lightly golden scramble that is far superior to the yellow gravel of most British breakfast tables.Sichuan lamb noodles, dubbed Chinese Spaghetti Bolognese (£8.95) is a variation of the classic northern Chinese classic, zha jiang mian, which combines minced meat, brown bean sauce, shredded cucumber and thick Shanghai noodles. It’s simple, but good, with its splodges of creamy hummus, stewy aubergine salad, garlicky tsatziki, a crisp-skinned felafel, tabbouleh, and naan bread for dipping and mopping.Main courses are a lot speedier. It’s like a love-in with cutlery.There is an all-day brunch menu, six different burgers, salads, and a global-roaming selection that runs from jerk-spiced grilled chicken skewers to Thai green chicken and squash curry.Staff are good-humoured, even when they get it wrong.

A shared starter of a Mediterranean mezes platter (£5.95) gets lost in the kitchen, and comes 30 minutes later with a smile and a shrug. In between the nuclear, separated and blended families are plenty of good-looking young couples treating the place like a gastropub. In fact the place is full of shiny, happy people, well-served by a menu that’s so flexible it practically bends over backwards to please. I know this by the orange child-indicator balloons that float over each one. Now there’s a public service: look for the balloons and you can tell exactly which tables to avoid. Cuban salsa fills the air, and the place glows with that sunny confidence that comes when a clever formula is intelligently implemented. Although it is only 12.30 on a Sunday afternoon, a queue is forming.Currently, there are children at 13 tables.

There is a large terrace outside, a front chill area with low chairs and tables, and a separate oval “surf skewer bar”, as well as a buzzy central dining area of smart dark wooden booths. This could explain why the restaurant guide Harden’s voted it Best Brunch last year and why Time Out gives it the kind of reviews that many sophisticated, serious restaurants would kill for.Like its 10 London siblings, the just-opened Giraffe at Royal Festival Hall is a bright, modern, upbeat space, decked out in hot orange and hot pink. “I didn’t really get any cramp after I saw the trainer,” he said “I couldn’t move Mentally, I lost it after I got broken I just got really tired, completely drained of everything.”. As someone who thinks the dining table is the true centre of the universe and that eating should be as civilised, enjoyable and life-enhancing as possible, there are several types of restaurants I avoid.